Oliver the Werewolf
by Someonesaidcake
Summary: She was there again tonight. Of course she was, this was an addiction for them both. AU / Not Canon / Smut / One-Shot / Oral


**AN: This is a one-shot that is part of the series "Oliver the..." hosted on AO3.**** /series/891132**

**OLIVER THE WEREWOLF**

She was there again tonight. Of course she was, this was an addiction for them both.

Oliver hung in the shadows, disguising himself in the thick curtain of black the room, with its one boarded up window. There was light, thin and amber hued, coming from a kerosene lamp sat on the floor beside the unmade bed, the one she had spent nights writhing in, begging him to let her come with her eyes on his. He didn't even know when it started, how they had found themselves in this symbiotic relationship that fed their sexual appetites. All he could remember was she had followed him here, or rather she had followed the white wolf, that full moon so many months ago. And while he had tried not to come to her tonight, it had been foolish to think that he could ever have stopped himself.

"Come into the light," she begged with a finger beckoning him.  
He pushed himself harder into the wall behind him with its flaking paint and its stench of damp wood. Hallmarks of an abandoned, unwanted house set in a thicket of vines and overgrown weeds. The oil lamp flickered and the flame almost disappeared as she sighed, discouraged.

Her hand trawled through her blonde tresses as her deep blue eyes grew weary. He knew her name, _Felicity_, and he had let it drip from his lips when he was alone, licking his wounds. She knew nothing of his, it was better that way.  
"Please, let me see you," she whispered, and her lips coaxed him a little closer until he dug his brittle nails into his thigh. She couldn't see him. He would lose her if she did. "You've stayed in the shadows long enough." Her soft, honeyed voice warmed his soul and his eyes lulled closed as he breathed her in. Letting the notes of her arousal trickle down his body.

"Put the mask on," he whispered from the deep trenches of the shadows.  
She shifted on the black satin sheets as her breasts fought the tight bodice of her crimson dress. Alabaster skin pushed into the boning, threatening to spill over the top as she panted in and out.  
"Will you ever let me see your face?" she asked, an irritated tone hanging at the ends of her words.

"One day." He said it to appease her, knowing her arousal had already damped her panties. But he hid himself for a reason. His hands travelled over his scarred face. Good reasons.  
"Tonight I want to see you," she begged. Her toes curling in the sheets.  
He inhaled, making the sound of it echo through the air.  
"I can smell you, you're ripe," he hummed, smacking his lips together. Some nights they did nothing but talk, her on his bed and him hiding in the shadows. Some nights she brought him food and other nights he regaled her with stories of the places he'd been. But, some nights, their desires gave them away, because some nights their bodies begged for a closeness, a lust, a warmth. Some nights they craved sex. Carnal. Primal. Desperate.

That was tonight.

He watched her fingers trickle down her throat. It was red with blush and he could sense her blood pumping beneath the skin. She stood off the bed and shimmied her slender legs out of the flimsy white panties drenched in her scent. She threw them towards his voice and they landed near his feet. He stooped and a sinewy arm in a torn shirt came out from the shadows to collect the same. He brought the wispy fabric to his nose and inhaled her deeply, taking in the fragrant aroma of her arousal.

"Tonight that is all you get unless you come into the light," she teased.  
He smiled at her tenacity but he could hear the thrum of her sex. It was an empty threat.

"Not tonight," he rasped.  
She gathered her purse and with a sombre sigh before she padded on the balls of her feet towards the cracked door, hanging off it's hinges.  
"Wait." His hand caught her arm. "I can't."  
It had been so long and his feelings for her had become more than a simple lusting but tonight he needed to stay shrouded in darkness.  
"Let me touch you," she countered as her fingertips dipped into the shadows. They raised cautiously towards his face and he didn't stop them.

Felicity touched his lips. Shaping them with her index finger before she moved like a feather over his bristled jaw and his sullen cheekbones wearing scars of a brutal past. If she was frightened by him, her face never showed it as she closed her eyes making an image of him in her mind.  
"One day," she whispered warmly, "I will see your eyes." Her fingertips touched the creases at the corner of his eye. "Will you tell me what colour they are?"  
He squinted as he fought to remember what they had once been.  
"Blue," he breathed, "A little lighter than yours."  
Faint memories coming back to him.

She smiled, full and rosy lips, as her eyes fluttered open. She moved back towards the bed on tip toes that drew lines on a light coat of dust that covered the oak floorboards. She sat cross legged on the bed and carefully spread out the skirt of her dress, ironing it out like a tulip over her knees with her palms.

"Lift it," he whispered, rasped, needy.  
She folded it carefully back to reveal her glistening thighs.  
"Higher," he begged and she appeased, folding the skirt up to her waist. His eyes drunk her in, full pink nether lips pulsing with desire and radiating heat.  
"Mask." The word was panted but not brittle.  
She took the satin blindfold from beside the bed, lay it across her eyes and tied it at the back of her head, as she had done many times before.

He took one step. Watching her lips for any sign she could see through the blindfold, her lips stayed pouted and full in a soft smile. Another step. She never flinched. He kept emerging from the shadows until he was standing directly in front of her. He knelt at the foot of the bed, putting his eyes directly in front of her wet flower.

He blew softly and her body shivered. He blew a second time, a little stronger and she moaned out a panted breath. Her sex blossomed on the third time, and he leaned forward, resting his neck on her ankles to inhale her before his tongue licked her in one salacious sweep.

Her hands fisted in the sheet but her body never moved. He kissed her wet lips, savouring the sweetness of her arousal as it bled into his mouth. He hummed as he watched her body tremble before he took her with another long stroke with the flat of his tongue.

He danced a barrage of soft kisses into her heat while her trembling palms fought with the sheets. Her aroma filled his senses like a rush that made his kisses more urgent. Tonight, the last night before a full moon, saw him hungry and desperate for her. Tonight she would come hard and fast and he would relish every moment and every drop.

His famished tongue sliced through her folds quickly and relentlessly. She moaned and sobbed at the roughness of his tongue, but her muted cries for "more" saw him speed up the onslaught. Her knees drifted up off the bed, her body closing in around her, before he pushed them back down into the mattress and kept a heavy hand on one of them. His other hand explored the curve of her ass from underneath as he stroked her smooth and sensitive taint.

Her teeth embedded in her lips and he watched with delight as it coloured the edges a delicious scarlet red where the blood lifted to the surface. A finger thrust inside her entrance and Felicity cried out desperately as her luscious walls clamped around his digit. Soon he was sucking her plump, hard little clit into his mouth while two fingers filled and stretched her. She shook around him, her blonde hair damp with perspiration and her fingers ghoulishly white in the jet black sheets. He watched her breasts, tight against her chest, as they lifted and fell with each ragged breath she took. Her cheeks were red like ripe strawberries and her throat was the colour of red wine.

He kept sucking her clit and teasing his tongue over the tip and hood while his fingers, coated in her elixir, spread her open to add a third. She fought against every inclination to close her legs, wrapping them around a face she had never laid eyes on, but the weight of his palm kept her steady as his splayed fingers caressed her thighs.

She gulped, imagining how large his hand must be to be able to sit at the cusp of her knee but graze the very top of her thigh with a fingertip.

Her eyes screwed shut, despite the black satin that obscured any view she might have had, as she breathed in the smells around her. The house smelled old and damp everywhere but this room, his room. The night she had discovered it, following prints through dense bush and unforgiving thorns, she had marvelled at the once grand work of architecture. But time and disrepair had ravaged the once proud mansion of stone and heavy wood, and it was slowly being reclaimed by the land it was built on.

Musk and woody notes teased her nose and parted her lips as she tried, senselessly, to taste him on the air. Her clothes clung to her body and for just a moment she considered clawing at them and exposing her aching breasts to his gaze. She now imagined his eyes blue in the painting she drew of him in her mind and while he, most times, took her hard and fast, she pictured his eyes kind with faint creases at the corners when he smiled. She felt his lips that night, soft and full but dry and cracked along the edges, as though he'd licked them too fervently. She had thought about falling into the shadows with him and discovering his lips with her own, perhaps soothing his rawness with her tongue, but she was scared that she would discover, not a beast, but a figment of her imagination.

She clung to his sheets, reminding herself that that moment, and every one they had shared before, was real. The textile between her fingers was real. The graze of his chin on her ankles was real. The burn in her belly was real. The insatiable sounds of him feeding on her clit, were most definitely real.

This was real.  
He was real.

Moments later she felt a deep fire burning up her thighs and erupting in her core. She flung her head backwards, spilling one of her breasts from the tight confines of her bodice, before she cried out in delirium, "Fuck, yes, Fuck."

He grinned against her sex as the fiery words kept flinging from her mouth for a filth-laden thirty seconds before she came in a flood of warm, silky release that coated his mouth and dripped down to his chin.

Her body trembled and shuddered and shook with her orgasm as his hand lifted off her knee and gently pinched her nipple between his fingers, tweaking it as her pleasured moans laced the air with magic. He growled against her pulsing lips, her heady scent imprinting on his senses and filling his veins as they throbbed down his arms, prickling his skin.

He could feel himself turning as his appetite flourished for her sweet, salty release. He nipped her clit between his teeth and her head snapped forward, desperate pants wracking her chest. He wanted to make her come again, and again, and _again_ until her legs were useless and she begged him to stop, but the adrenaline coursing through his body was too much.

His chest hardened and his shoulders bent forward into haunches.

Tonight only allowed for one.

He licked her clean before he placed a tender kiss on her damp cheek, tasting the saltiness of her sweat.  
"One day," he whispered.  
_One day._

**Thanks for reading/**

** /series/891132**


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